


Christmases Past

by draca (wyvernwolf)



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-06
Updated: 2010-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-05 21:22:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvernwolf/pseuds/draca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gene reminisces about the past seven Christmases.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmases Past

It was quiet. The low murmur of the radio the only sound louder than the hum from the overhead lights. The few Christmas decorations that were up were a little worse for wear. The tree that persisted in leaning to the left no matter what was done to prop it up, with it's lopsided star perched precariously on it's tip and scraggly tinsel chucked all over, was leaning so far over now that it was almost touching the floor. The lights that had been strung out haphazardly, had only half it's lights lit, and even then with an odd stuttering quality that mirrored the beat of his hurting heart.

There were the other usual bits of Christmas cheer spread out over the room, but it all seemed muted.

The others had left hours ago, taking the party to The Arms. Ray had tried to talk him into coming along but he'd waved him away. He wasn't in the mood for celebrations. Not this year. Not since the bottom had dropped out of his world only a few weeks ago.

This was the first Christmas since...he couldn't even bring himself to think it much less say it aloud.

Another drink as he tried not to compare this Christmas to the others. There'd been a party as usual, but for him, it had lacked something. A something in the shape of a short haired, pain in his arse Detective Inspector. He'd tried to get into the mood, the alcohol had helped but he hadn't been able to fully enjoy himself. Not even watching Skelton drunkenly trying to persuade Ray to dance with him had been able to raise more than a smile out of him.

Which was why he'd pushed the lot of them out the door and pointed them in the direction of the pub. Just because he was feeling down in the mouth didn't mean they all had to suffer for it.  
Things were just so different this year. Before there'd been the nurmerous hints and whatnot from Sam about what he'd gotten for Gene and then there'd be all the plans he'd cook up for a Christmas meal. Not one for the normal Christmas meal was his Sam. Oh no, he'd come up with all sorts of strange things that he'd make Gene eat. It hadn't startd out that way though.

He remembered that first Christmas, seven years ago, Tyler'd been a right old sourpuss. Moping around the office, muttering about commercial-whatsits and his Mum and being four years old. Gene'd been worried that the silly sod had lost his already fragile grip on reality, when suddenly on Christmas eve, the pansy-arsed fairy'd shown up at his house with a bag of tacky Christmas decorations and a few bottles of cheap whiskey at his feet. They'd celebrated with drinks the whole night and spent Christmas day hungover but happy.

The next Christmas, Tyler'd gotten into the swing of things. Him and Cartwright had gone and bought a tree, the same tree that was now in CID, and decorated the office. Gene could remember him and Ray watching and laughing their arses off as Tyler and Skelton had tried to make the tree stand straight. They had failed miserably much to his amusement. Tyler'd still had a half sulky look on his face but at least this time he'd been trying to be cheerful. That year he'd given Gene a bottle of scotch with a big red bow tied around it's neck. Gene hadn't opened it until they were back at his place. It hadn't taken them long to drain it dry so they'd had to supplement it with the bottles Gene had hidden in the kitchen cupboard. Christmas day had been spent sicking it all up in the toilet. He'd threatened to rip Tyler a new one as it was all his fault that he'd spent Christmas with his head down the loo.

The third Christmas, Tyler'd been the one to harass the whole of CID into decorating the squad room. The whole place had ended up looking like some tart's boudoir, thanks to the decorations that Ray had found in Lost and Found. He'd even found a red feather boa that Gene had wrapped around Tyler. But they'd had fun. Sort of. If you forgot about Skelton getting so drunk he'd made a pass at Phyllis and didn't include the fight that Tyler and Ray had gotten into over a toy in a Christmas cracker. After, Gene had driven Sam home and they'd had a private celebration back at the shithole that Tyler called home. That celebration had involved more drinks, dirty jokes and even dirtier stories. Gene had been pleasantly surprised that night at what a filthy mind his DI had. Christmas day itself hadn't been so bad. They'd only spent the first half of it feeling like shit. And for a present, Tyler'd given him a picture in a poncey frame of the two of them taken at last year's Christmas party. It was still sitting on the filing cabinet in his office.

Their fourth Christmas together, Sam'd somehow managed to coerce Ray into playing Santa with Skelton as an elf. Gene'd choked on his scotch when he'd seen Ray grump into CID in the red suit. The white beard hadn't quite covered up Carling's moustache and he'd looked ridiculous. Skelton on the other hand had looked suspiciously at home in the green tights and skivvy. That year, Sam'd invited him over for Christmas dinner as a present. By then Sam had moved into a more respectable flat, so they'd ended up there after the Christmas party to save Gene from having to drive over the next day. The irritating git had insisted they not drink as much this year so they'd both been relatively sober come Christmas morning. Surprisingly, Gene'd enjoyed the meal his poncey DI had cooked up.

Their fifth Christmas, the office party had been bigger and better with a real Santa, or at least someone in a Santa suit that had actually looked the part. The biggest bonus for the team had been the pretty elves that had come with Santa. Long legs, big jugs and pretty faces. If he remembered rightly, Chris had gotten lucky with one of the elves. The pretty redhead with the big...lips. It also seemed to be a new tradition where he ended up at Sam's and they'd spend Christmas day together. Sam had given him a new pair of driving gloves that year. To make up for losing his old ones. Gene still wasn't sure how Sam had lost his old pair.

The sixth Christmas had been odd. The decorations were put up, this time thanks to Skelton and Carling, both of whom had dates for the party so were eager to get things going. Flash Knickers had shown up, even though she was no longer part of the force, and had brought along her new lawyer husband to show him off. Gene remembered how quiet Sam'd been and how he'd had spent most of the time by himself drinking in a corner. He'd left early but Gene'd tracked him down later by the canal. Sitting and staring into the water. It'd given him quite a turn until he realised Sam wasn't intending to do something stupid but was just brooding. He'd badgered Sam into moving and they'd gone back to Sam's place and had spent the night doing, of all things, talking. About Annie, Gene's ex-missus, everything. And they hadn't even been plastered. His present that year had been a silver hip flask, with the words "To my best mate Gene, from Sam" engraved on it. He still had it in his coat pocket, next to his heart.

The seventh Christmas had been the best. Since their talk, him and Sam had been getting along pretty well, not counting the necessary arguments and fights to knock some sense into the know-it-all bastard. The team had started the decorating days ahead, the lopsided tree, tinsel chucked all over the place, little holly wreaths and mistletoe bloody everywhere. Although now that he thought about it, the mistletoe hadn't been a bad idea. Gene had got a few kisses out of them. Damned good kisses too. And nobody could say nothing as it was Christmas and they'd been standing under mistletoe. It was tradition to snog someone senseless when you were under it. The party was at it's height, with Chris and Geoff trying to dance and Ray laughing so hard he'd fallen over headfirst into a bin, when Gene and Sam had left and gone back to Sam's. Where they'd proceeded to shag each other silly...everywhere. Christmas morning and they were still at it. By Christmas afternoon, they'd managed to make it to the bed. Evening found them finally eating before heading back to bed. If he'd been asked, Gene would have admitted to being thouroughly shocked at how totally depraved his DI could be when given the right incentive. All in all that had been the best Christmas of Gene's life, bar the Christmas that he'd bought his beloved bronzed goddess of course.

Their eighth Christmas together...well...there wasn't going to be one was there. His Christmas alone. The duo of Hunt and Tyler down to Hunt only.

The divhead had gone and gotten himself killed. Drowned with no body to find, no body to bury. No chance to say goodbye.

Remembering made his heart hurt so he drank some more, swallowing the contents of his glass in one breath.

And god help him but he could hear the little bastard's voice in his head scolding him for drinking too much.

Just to spite it, he snatched the bottle off the table and refilled his glass to the brim. He could almost see Sam in front of him in that stupid leather jacket rolling his eyes and the image made him want to laugh and cry. But Gene Hunt didn't cry so instead he just lifted his glass to where his Sam would usually be standing.

"Here's to you Sam. The best picky pain in the arse DI that A Division could have had and the best damned friend and lover I ever had. Merry Christmas you bastard."

When imaginary Sam smiled that heartbreaking smile of his before giving him a nod and fading away, somehow, he didn't feel all that alone anymore. His Sammy would be with him in one way or another. And he'd always have those memories of Christmases past.

Gene finished the last of his drink and got up. Taking one last look around the room, he gave Sam's desk a fond pat before grabbing his coat and walking out the door. There was a party out there just waiting for the great Gene Genie to grace it with his magnificent presence.

-Fin-


End file.
